The Green Soul Of Xander McBride
by Brandon League
Summary: Forty years ago, at Hogwarts, a deranged student used his special gift as an instrument of murder. Rather than be captured, he sacrificed his soul. However, just because a soul does not inhabit a body, it does not classify one as dead. Ch 2 Up!
1. Default Chapter

"The Green Soul Of Xander McBride"  
A Harry Potter Fanfic  
By Brandon League  
(Brnleague@aol.com)  
  
Summary: Forty years ago, at Hogwarts, a deranged student used his special gift as an instrument of murder. Rather than be captured, he sacrificed his soul. However, just because a soul does not inhabit a body, it does not classify one as "dead." A multi-part story. I will add to it as time permits.  
  
Legalities: Harry Potter and pals belong to that wise British goddess, J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a while. However, the characters of Xander McBride and Malcolm St. John are mine, ALL MINE! Come on J.K., bring on the fifth book for Chrissakes!  
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"Expelliarmus!"  
  
The cry rang through the Great Hall like a crack of thunder. The impact of the disarming spell threw Xander McBride against the wall with brutal force, but he didn't lose consciousness. Groaning softly, Xander raised his head slowly and sneered at Malcolm St. John, the sixth year Gryffindor prefect that had cast the spell.  
  
"You think you've won, St. John? You've won nothing!"  
  
Malcolm lowered his wand and shook his head slowly. "I pity you, Xander," he whispered. "You've brought shame on Slytherin, and all of Hogwarts with your actions. You know they'll send you to Azkaban for this, don't you?"  
  
Xander rose slowly to his feet, his eyes gleaming. "I did the magical world a favor. I struck a blow for witches and wizards everywhere!"  
  
"How?" Malcolm's voice rose hysterically. "You killed thirty innocent Muggles for no reason. Only you would use your gift in such a monstrous way!"  
  
Xander chuckled softly as he glared daggers at his Gryffindor nemesis.  
  
"You fool," he spat. "All you damned Gryffindors are the same. You are weak, Muggle-loving cowards. I, on the other hand, am a visionary!"  
  
"You...you...you MANIAC! How dare you call yourself a visionary? You have the gift of Parseltongue and how do you use it? You send two dozen poisonous snakes into a Muggle hospital! You killed women and children! One of your snakes...killed a two year old girl!"  
  
"So what?" Xander McBride's mad eyes danced in the dim firelight. "She was a pathetic Muggle."  
  
With a bellow of rage, Malcolm strode over and backhanded Xander across the face. He grabbed Xander by the cloak and pinned him to the wall. "You monster! I'll fix you!"   
  
A voice came from behind him. "Malcolm! Leave him!"  
  
Trembling and sweating profusely, Malcolm St. John turned around. Standing there, his hands calmly at his sides, was Albus Dumbledore. The young, intelligent Transfiguration professor was, as usual, calm and composed. The fact that one of his students had just murdered thirty people didn't seem to faze him.  
  
"Malcolm," he said softly, "law enforcement officials are on their way. They'll deal with him."  
  
"How can you be so calm, Professor? You know what he did. Not only that, he had the GALL to come back here! As if we wouldn't know..."  
  
"Malcolm, he's unbalanced. Surely you can see that..."  
  
That was as far as Dumbledore got. What happened next took Malcolm completely by surprise. From out of nowhere, Xander threw back his hand and punched Malcolm squarely in the jaw, knocking him backwards. As Malcolm went down to one knee, Xander darted across the room. Clearly his intent was to leap through a window to escape. However, as he started to run, Dumbledore pulled out his wand and pointed it at the window...  
  
"Objectus Dispero," he cried.   
  
Xander McBride, not paying attention, made to leap through the window...but instead cried out, as he slammed hard into solid wall, seeing as the window had disappeared. He crumpled to the floor in a heap. At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall flung open and six uniformed officers of the Ministry of Magic burst into the room. They started toward McBride, their jaws set and determined.  
  
"It's over, Xander," Dumbledore whispered softly.  
  
Quick as a heartbeat, Xander McBride pulled himself into a sitting position. "Is that what you think, Professor Dumbledore," he whispered, venom dripping through his words. "My dear man, it has only just begun." Xander reached into his pocket and withdrew a small crystal sphere, about the size of a Muggle baseball.   
  
"Did you actually think I'd ever let myself be captured? I'd rather lose my soul, than be locked away in Azkaban to be a plaything for the Dementors."  
  
Holding the sphere high in the air, Xander screamed, "I, Xander McBride of the noble House of Slytherin do hereby relinquish my soul on this night!"  
  
"No!" Dumbledore's cry pierced through the Great Hall, but it was too late. A green light shot out of Xander's chest and into the crystal sphere. Then, the sphere fell from Xander's hand and landed with a clink on the floor. For a moment, Xander's body sat there normally as though nothing had happened. Then, a thin trickle of blood came out of his mouth, and with a light twitch, Xander's body fell backwards and after a pause, burst into flames.  
  
"A Soul Keeper," Malcolm whispered, as he stared at the crystal orb on the floor, now glowing a bright green. He turned to Dumbledore with an open mouth. "It preserves the soul, but destroys the body. Professor, I thought they were illegal?"  
  
"They are, Malcolm. God knows where he got it." He shook his head. This was a tragedy plain and simple. Xander McBride was one of the most magically gifted students that Hogwarts had seen in several hundred years. If only he hadn't let his irrational hatred of Muggles corrupt him. He could have been great.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and walked over to the Soul Keeper lying on the floor. One thing was certain, this Soul Keeper could never fall into the wrong hands. It had to be locked away, where the powerful, yet malevolent spirit inside could corrupt no one. If Xander McBride ever rose again, no Muggle on Earth would be safe. He had to be contained.  
  
He felt Malcolm's hand on his shoulder. "What now Professor," he asked timidly.  
  
Dumbledore turned and looked at him passively. "You know Malcolm," he said quietly, "I have no idea."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


	2. Present Day

"Draco...Draco Malfoy..."  
  
The lanky, blonde seventh year Slytherin awoke with a start. He had been having a really bizarre dream, in which he was trapped inside a glass ball. No amount of punching or kicking would break the glass, and when he tried to use a spell, to his horror, he discovered that he didn't have any hands.  
  
Draco sat there on his bed, sweat pouring from his forehead. It was just a stupid dream, he chided himself. That's what you get for eating an entire bag of Every Flavor Beans before bed. He relaxed a little, took a deep breath and was just about to go back to sleep, when he heard the voice again.  
  
"Draco...Draco Malfoy..."  
  
"Who's there," Draco called, sitting bolt upright once again. Across the room, Christopher Faulkner, a first year Slytherin, grunted in his sleep and began to snore softly. At first, Draco thought that the voice he had heard was simply Christopher talking in his sleep. That was logical, it made sense. In the three weeks since his seventh year at Hogwarts had begun, Draco had already been awoken dozens of times by Christopher babbling in his sleep...but this was different.  
  
Draco threw back the sheets and got out of bed. After taking just a moment to locate his slippers, he walked out of the bedroom and descended the staircase to the Slytherin common room. He stretched and crossed to the window, looking out at the fat, white full moon that hung high in the sky. Where was that voice coming from? Was it real, or was he just imagining it? It sounded...  
  
A hand fell on Draco's shoulder and it took every bit of willpower he had not to scream out. He turned and gave a great sigh of relief as he saw his old pal Gregory Goyle standing there, blissfully dumb as usual. Goyle gave Draco a sleepy once-over, wiping his eyes sleepily as he did so. He yawned loudly and then spoke.  
  
"What ya doing, Draco?"  
  
"I think someone's playing a joke on me," Malfoy drawled. "I was in bed asleep, and I heard someone calling me. I'll bet you anything it's Potter."  
  
Goyle blinked his large catfish eyes and in a rare moment of insight, asked, "How could it have been Potter? He doesn't have the password for our common room."  
  
Draco looked at his old pal, surprised. It wasn't like Goyle to be THAT perceptive. To put it kindly, Goyle was usually a little dim. To put it harshly, he was as dumb as a stump. However it was a darned good question. If it was Potter trying to be funny, there was no way that Draco could hear him from the bedroom unless Potter was inside the common room, and that wasn't possible. How could...  
  
"Draco...Draco Malfoy..."  
  
"Did you hear that?" Draco spun around and headed for the portrait hole. "It sounded like it was coming from the stairs!" Draco stepped out through the hole and began to ascend toward the phantom voice, Goyle hot on his trail. Goyle looked at Draco, confused. What had he heard? Goyle hadn't heard anything.  
  
"We hafta be careful, Draco," Goyle grunted, "If we get caught, Slytherin'll lose points."  
  
"I know that," Draco hissed, "now be quiet!"   
  
The two ascended the stairs in complete silence. Draco looked grim and determined while Goyle, as usual, just looked dense and oblivious. They got to the top of the stairs and Draco looked around intently, not exactly sure WHAT he was looking for, but he knew that when he saw it, he'd recognize it. He wondered who, or what, he was chasing.  
  
"Draco...this way...Draco..."   
  
The voice was coming from the far end of the first floor corridor. Draco broke into a run and dashed to the far end of the corridor with Goyle hot on his trail. Whatever it was, it had a powerful hold on him. Draco discovered that, shockingly, he really didn't care whether Filch or Mrs. Norris caught him; just as long as he found the source of the voice and the powerful presence it belonged to. Finally, he stopped in front of a familiar door, the Trophy Room.  
  
"What are we doing here, Draco?" Goyle's voice held a note of confusion.  
  
Draco turned to Goyle, his eyes dancing. "It's in there," he whispered softly.  
  
"Great!" Goyle scratched his head with a meaty hand and thought for a moment. "What's in there?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Draco confessed.  
  
The boys eased the door to the Trophy Room open and crept inside. The Hogwarts Trophy Room looked pretty much as it always did. Trophies and plaques praising various individual achievements as well as various house achievements, going back hundreds of years were all over the room. Draco and Goyle both swelled with pride as their gaze fell on a two hundred year old House Cup won by Slytherin. Then they scowled as their gaze fell on six years worth of House Cups won by Gryffindor.   
  
"In here...Draco..."  
  
Draco glanced down at the floor. His eyes fell on an ancient chest, small and unassuming, next to the huge Trophy Case. Draco got down on one knee and tried to open the chest but it was locked tight. He swore. "Whatever it is, Goyle, its in there."  
  
Goyle grinned and reached into his cloak, pulling out a small metal tool. He reached over and, brow furrowed tightly, worked on the locked chest. In a single minute, the chest sprang open. Goyle crossed his arms and looked very pleased with himself.  
  
"Blimey! Where'd you learn how to do that?" Draco was awed.  
  
Goyle grinned. "Jack Connor in Herbology owed me five knuts, but he didn't have it, so he taught me. He says that Muggles call it 'lock picking.'"  
  
Draco wasn't listening. Inside the chest, under a faded scrap of cloth, was a crystal orb of some sort. Draco picked it up and stared in awe as the orb began to glow a brilliant, emerald green. He could feel warmth radiating from it. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he knew that it probably contained powerful magical properties. It was the most beautiful thing that Draco Malfoy had ever seen. It...  
  
"Who's in there?"  
  
Draco and Goyle froze. Filch!  
  
Draco stuffed the orb into his cloak and dashed across the room and out the side door, with Goyle right at his heels. They left the room just as Mrs. Norris trotted in, her ears up and her eyes bright. Right behind her was the caretaker, Argus Filch.   
  
"Look around, little girl," Filch croaked, "I'm sure they are around here somewhere."  
  
However, Draco and Goyle were long gone.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Draco Malfoy sat alone in the Slytherin common room, staring at the crystal orb held lovingly in his hands. Goyle had gone back to bed, immediately upon returning, but Draco had never been more awake in his life. He stroked the orb softly and grinned nastily. Whatever this thing was, it had some very powerful magic in it, that was for sure! Powerful magic that could, no doubt, help him humble the "Famous" Harry Potter once and for good.  
  
"Harry Potter thinks he's so good because he's the Head Boy..."  
  
Suddenly, to Draco Malfoy's amazement, a voice came from within the orb.   
  
"Harry Potter? Who's that?"  
  
Flabbergasted, Draco stammered, "Potter's this stuck-up goody-goody in Gryffindor. He thinks he knows everything and that we Slytherins are scum." Draco's face went red with anger.  
  
The pleasant voice from the voice continued. "Oh...you're a Slytherin too?"  
  
Draco swelled with pride. "Of course! My name's Draco Malfoy, my whole family has been in Slytherin House! It's been that way since the days of William The Conqueror!"  
  
The voice chuckled. "That's good! It does my heart well to talk to a noble, proud Slytherin like yourself, Draco. You're a wizard after my own heart! Everyone knows Slytherin is the best house!"  
  
Draco swelled even more. Whoever this was, he sure seemed like his kind of guy!  
  
Once again, a soft chuckle came from the orb, as though the disembodied presence knew exactly what Draco was thinking.   
  
"Well, Draco, since I know your name, it would be rude of me not to introduce myself, now wouldn't it?" The voice paused for a second and then continued.  
  
"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Draco Malfoy. My name is Xander McBride."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED... 


End file.
